Page 21 of My Roommate from Hell
Instead, I grab a pair of fresh socks from my closet.
“What are you doing?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“There’s a school fair thing going on, would you like to come?”
He smiles. “Let me wrap this up.”
I watch him as he plays the game. He moves around the screen with a practiced ease.
“You’re good at this,” I say.
“Yeah, games were part of my research. I got addicted.”
He kills the last enemy, ranking first in the match. Seeing as he was competing against a hundred other strangers, it’s impressive. I wonder if the people out there know that the person who beat them is the prince of Hell?
As I wait by the door, I look around the room, trying not to be bothered by the mess. I’m sure he’ll clean it up soon. Zarmenus puts his controller down, then grabs a packet of Doritos. He reaches in, then tips the packet over his mouth, getting the last few crumbs—the ones that don’t fall onto his chest or the floor, that is. He tosses the empty packet toward the bin. He misses, and doesn’t pick it up.
“What are you waiting for?” he asks. “Let’s go.”
We take the elevator down to the lobby, then go outside. I’m bracing myself for another protest, but that’s not what’s waiting for us. Though it’s equally horrifying.
It’s a group of paparazzi.
A group of about thirty are huddled outside. The sound of their cameras starts to give me a headache.
“Okay,” says Zarmenus, lifting his hands. “Let’s do this the right way. I’ll let you get your shot, then you leave us alone. Deal?”
“No dice,” says one of the men, who keeps taking pictures. “Who’s the blond?”
It takes me a second to realize he’s speaking about me. I’m noteven blond. Yes, in the sun it looks kind of like it, and if I spend a lot of time outside it gets lighter, but my hair is light brown, thank you very much.
“I said,” says Zarmenus, his tone darkening, becoming fearsome, “deal?”
“Okay, fine, yes,” says the man, his voice suddenly high-pitched.
Zarmenus pulls me closer. “The blond is Owen. He’s my roommate.”
I try smiling as they take their pictures.
“I think that’s enough,” says Zarmenus. “We’ve got a school fair to get to. I would very much appreciate you leaving us alone.”
Zarmenus puts his arm under mine, pulling me away from the group.
“You handled that well,” I say. “But I thought your dad organized them?”
“I thought so, too, but I guess it’s out of even his control. He’d hate that. They shouldn’t be a problem, though. If they keep bothering us, I’ll make them regret it.”
After a short walk, we reach the fairground, which has been set up on a patch of grass just down from the main quad. Dozens of white tents have been set up, as well as a few different food trucks. Workers or volunteers, I’m not really sure, are staffing the booths and standing in front of the food trucks, giving out free samples.
We approach a stall where a woman in a navy-blue shirt with the Point logo on the front is standing next to a big prize wheel.
“Want to try?” she asks.
“Do I?” asks Zarmenus.
Seems like enjoying stuff for free is something humans and demons have in common; Zarmenus is clearly hyped.
“You first,” says Zarmenus.
